February 2011 Archives

(A version of this article was published in the Stockman Grass Farmer, June, 2011)

Beef cattle belch out tons of methane. Some studies claim cows account for 18 percent of all greenhouse gas emissions. And it turns out that grass-fed cows belch more than their grain-fed cousins, a fact that gladdens the hearts of feedlot owners seeking a patch of moral high ground on which to plant a green flag.

2.13.11 ~ The digital clock said 9:00 right next to the 59 degrees temperature gage of my new fangled computer empowered car. I figured this computer chip was the same type used by my doctor’s office medical systems to calculating my REAL age. Those damn things say I’m just under 71. I’m 54 and don’t understand how computer chips work.

Rigging up I finally embraced the computer data….59 degrees in February at 9:00 no less….if the wind stays down and the cloud cover stays this could be one for the books. Winter fishing in Colorado! The ice on Mother must have been melting all night. As the sunshine came over the rise the Texas size ices sheet gradually became Rhode Island by the time I finally left around 4:00. Open water everywhere and the fish well disbursed. I caught about two fish and hour using an ultra slow retrieve of Clousers and olive Woolly Buggers. This time of year I usually go through the ritual of dressing up for comfort using layers to brunt the snow and ice cold conditions. Wool, poly pro, gloves, gator around my neck, knit stocking hat, along with the wind proof jacket all never got out of the car. I also usually endure the ritual of changing up from fly to fly to fly trying to figure out the right pattern. Not today. My fly patch held three patterns all variants of fry. (I didn’t try any crawdads or mice guess I really didn’t need to.)

I did land Big Mikes kid brother. I will send a photo if I can get the computer chip in my camera to introduce itself to the one driving this beast on my desk top. So far they act like one is a Democrat the other a Republican. I have a ritual of ALWAYS bringing my large net to Sylvan Dale came in handy today landing him solo. If I lose the battle of the chips, imagine a 24-inch long, 7 to 8 inch wide hook jaw brown trout took the olive woolly and me into my backing….. twice. Right after the picture was taken he flipped, jerked and smacked the water, vanishing into the deep with two thrusts of his tail. Sheeesh! and I thought I was going to need to go through the ritual of gently reviving him after such a long fight. Seems I was the one in need of reviving!

Driving out I completed the last two rituals. I clicked the lock to the gate securing this magical valley for the next time, and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving to God and to the Jessups for allowing mere mortals to walk this close to heaven….while still on this earth. ~ Season Member, Steve Musick